Adjusting the Sails
by SigmaTheta
Summary: The RLS Legacy and her captain are both in need of repairs. Post-movie, pre-epilogue scene. Written for Yuletide 2015.


Her immediate thought when she had first seen Delbert Doppler – _really_ seen him, not peered at him through the window of that ridiculous antique of a spacer suit he was wearing – was that her mother would not have liked him at all.

Amelia came from a very old, very elite family, and her mother in particular was notoriously concerned with appearances and markers of class. She had married Amelia's father largely because he was considered such an excellent specimen of nobility and wealth. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and straight-backed, and his facial features were all firm lines and sharp angles. He'd even had his ears cut to stand tall and erect as a child, a practice that was already considered old-fashioned even then and was now seen as borderline barbaric to all but the most stubborn of traditionalists. (Her mother was, of course, included in that category.)

Doppler had none of these aristocratic traits. He was skinny and frail looking, and his horrible posture often made him seem shorter than he actually was. His face was soft, his muzzle short and rounded at the edges, and the tips of his ears drooped nearly as low as his chin. Even his clothing, though clearly expensive and finely made, was worn unkempt and sloppy, with wrinkles at the elbows and ink stains along the sleeves. He would be called a low-bred mongrel in Amelia's family home.

Lovely eyes, though. Even her mother would have trouble faulting him there.

* * *

The engineer had hardly even needed to glance at the damage before he confirmed what Amelia had already suspected: the _Legacy_ would need to stay in gravity dock for the next several months while extensive repairs were made. Disappointing, but she supposed the fact that it could salvaged at all after such a voyage was itself a small miracle. At least the initial funding for the expedition had prepared for such a possibility – no calling home to tap into her savings this time.

She would be grounded for a while yet, anyway, with or without her ship. The spaceport's surgeon had set and wrapped her arm and done what he could for the broken ribs and other internal injuries, but he had very strongly suggested she avoid any long-distance space travel while she was healing.

It was all a great deal of bother, really.

Dr. Doppler graciously offered to open his home to her while she recovered, quickly adding, with a flustered stammer that was rapidly becoming familiar to her, that Jim Hawkins and his mother would also be staying there until their house could be rebuilt.

It was only a short jaunt by longboat from the Montressor Spaceport to the planet itself, well within the surgeon's restrictions, and she would need to remain nearby to monitor the progress on her ship's repairs. It would be convenient.

Amelia accepted the offer, and before long the four of them were loaded into the crowded shuttle boat and on their way.

Montressor, she knew, was primarily a mining planet. It had been discovered some years ago to have a crust unusually rich in a particular ore, which, when extracted and heated and processed in a certain way, formed the fuel that carried all their great ships across the Etherium. So the Interstellar Council had put out the call: come make your home on this barren and empty rock of a world, come toil and labor in the mines for us, come make a new start. Ambitious and hopeful and desperate young families had answered the call eagerly, coming from all corners of the galaxy and leaving everything behind for a new job, a plot of barely farmable land, and a dream of something better.

And against all odds, Montressor thrived. Its wild mix of species and cultures and classes had come together and eked out an existence on a formerly lifeless world, and that had soon blossomed into bustling towns and communities all across the planet's surface.

Or so the history books said. Amelia had never set foot there before. The spaceport, supported by the successful fuel mining industry, was one of the busiest in the entire sector and had been an important waypoint on many of her journeys, but she had never had a reason to visit the small planet it orbited. It was quieter than she expected, being so close to such a major hub of travel and commerce. There were probably larger cities elsewhere on the planet, but the town Doppler and the Hawkinses called home was a calm, cozy, close-knit community tucked in the gaps between cliffs and quarries.

Just how small and close the town was became clear almost immediately. The driver of the carriage they hired at the docks was already acquainted with all three of her companions and chatted animatedly with them during the entire ride. When he learned Amelia was new to the area, he quickly turned to include her in the conversation, excitedly telling her all about the local history and pointing out important landmarks along their way.

That sort of blathering on might have annoyed her in the past, but she was now finding it strangely charming instead. He was exactly the sort of fellow you'd want to be a person's first introduction to your town, friendly, charming, and quite obviously in love with his home and his job. He was also very informative. By the time they reached Doppler's home – the fourth largest building in town, according to the carriage driver, right after the town hall and two major factories – she practically felt like a local herself.

* * *

Doppler pushed the door open with his shoulder and set Amelia's trunk down at the foot of the bed inside. "Well," he said, turning on the light and gesturing her into the room, "here we are. Um, sorry about the mess. I wasn't expecting so much company anytime soon."

Amelia swept her gaze quickly over the guest room that would her home for the next few months. It wasn't so much messy as it was unused, or rather used for very specific, storage-related purposes. The far wall was lined with boxes and crates, a stack of books teetered precariously on the bedside table, and a large collection of maps and star charts were rolled up and tucked into a corner. Still, it was quite a large room, and plenty of space to maneuver remained. The bed looked clean and comfortable, and the chest of drawers was clear of all but a fine layer of dust. She'd stayed in far, far worse conditions for far longer without complaint.

Doppler was looking around the room as well, frowning and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I can clean this up now," he offered. "Unless you want to unpack and, uh, settle in first?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Doctor," she said with a dismissive wave of her good hand. "The room is fine as it is, and you've been more than generous already. Don't go reorganizing on my account."

He looked relieved, as she expected – the offer was clearly reluctant, though almost certainly sincere. "Well, if you insist," he said, a bit too quickly. He took one more look around the room and added, in a quiet mutter, "I really should do something about all this someday. Those maps have been out of date for years, and the books…" He cleared his throat and turned back to Amelia, speaking at a more normal volume again. "Anyway, I'll just leave you to it for now. Sarah and Jim are staying just down the hall, and I'm on the ground floor, if you need anything."

He hesitated in the doorway, rocking slightly on his heels, and Amelia offered a brief smile. "Thank you, Doctor," she said pointedly. "Goodnight."

"Er, yes, goodnight!" he replied, backing out of the room and closing the door behind him.

Amelia shook her head, letting out a quiet laugh. Then she schooled herself back into a more neutral expression and turned her attention to the problem of her luggage.

Unpacking would be a wise thing to do – she was going to be staying here for an indeterminate length of time, a couple of months at the very least – but something in her rebelled against the idea. Unless one counted the living quarters of a ship, it had been years since Amelia had stayed in one place for more than a few days at a time. All her instincts told her to keep her few possessions close by and compact, ready to move on at a moment's notice. It wasn't in her nature to settle in anywhere.

She spent a few moments staring down at her trunk, as though it might decide to unpack itself and save her the trouble if she waited long enough. Finally, Amelia settled on a compromise and kneeled down to open the lid. She would take out clothes for the night and for the next day. That was good enough for now.

She had nearly everything she needed out when her fingers brushed against something rigid in amongst all the soft fabric. Amelia pulled out the tricorn hat, larger and darker than her own, with its gold trim fraying slightly at the back, and grief seized her heart in a sudden, icy grip. She sat down hard on the floor and let her head drop.

She would need to write up her report soon, she thought dully, pushing back against the pain. The Interstellar Fleet would want to know the results of their journey as quickly as possible, and they would require an explanation for the mutiny and its casualties, especially this one. After all, Mr. Arrow had once been an officer for them, too, just like her.

Amelia gritted her teeth and forced herself to her feet. She placed the hat gently atop the chest of drawers, changed out of her travelling clothes, and climbed into bed. The report could wait for now.

* * *

It was the library, rather than the parlour or even the dining room, that was the center of activity in the Doppler household. Amelia discovered this quite quickly by following the echoed sounds of conversation down stairs and empty hallways until she found where everyone had gathered in the morning.

It made sense, she supposed. Someone in Doppler's field of work would naturally spend a lot of time in the library, and it was easily the largest room in the house. She would almost call it cavernous, with its high, arched ceilings and ample floorspace, but it still managed to feel close and comfortable, a place people would want to spend time. It had everything necessary to entertain, too – plush chairs arranged in a loose circle, small tables suitable for tea sets, even a gramophone balanced uneasily on a stack of books – though it didn't appear as though the doctor did much of that, typically. It had the same look of general disarray as the guest room. Still, a fire roared against one wall, filling the room with warmth, and tall windows let in plenty of natural light and gave a lovely view of the valley below the cliff they were perched on. What little wallspace that wasn't lined with bookshelves was instead given over to charts, maps, and a few fine paintings. It was a nice room, welcoming.

Sarah Hawkins, sitting in the settee closest to the room's entrance with a dress draped over her lap and a sewing kit open on the cushion next to her, was the first to notice her arrival. She offered a smile and a cheerful good morning that drew the attention of the other two. Jim was slouched low in his seat, feet propped up on the chair in front of him. He quickly dropped his feet to the floor and sat up straight. Doppler was stationed behind a large desk literally covered in books, journals, and scattered sheets of paper. He had a pen in one hand and was furiously scribbling away on one of the papers, and it took him a few moments to tear his eyes away from his work and look up to see who Sarah was talking to. Once he finally did, he blinked once, slowly, as though he had forgotten Amelia was staying in his house, and then jumped quickly to his feet.

"Hello!" he said, too loudly, and seemed at loss for any further words.

When he made to move out from behind the desk, Amelia waved him off. "Please sit, Doctor," she said. "You seem quite busy."

He did so, slowly, and a brief, uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Amelia was the outsider here, she realized. On her ship and in the wilds of the planet, she had understood her position and where she stood with crew and passengers and mutineers alike. But this was different territory altogether. It had been some time since she'd had to navigate a situation as anything other than a captain.

Fortunately, Sarah Hawkins was a natural host. That came with running an inn, Amelia supposed. The woman swept her sewing off her lap and onto a side table and stood. "Are you hungry?" she asked. "We saved some breakfast, although it might be a little cold, now."

Amelia smiled. "That would be lovely. Thank you."

Sarah led her to the table and handed her a plate, encouraging her to fill it well and commenting that Amelia seemed far too skinny for someone who did such hard work. Then she led her back to the library and made sure she was settled comfortably in a chair between Doppler and Jim. Sarah took up her sewing again, inquiring after Amelia's arm as she did, and soon everyone in the room was drawn into quiet conversation.

Slowly, Amelia let herself relax, something she was rarely able to do aboard her ship, even with a crew she trusted. Perhaps being planet-bound for a while wouldn't be the worst thing.

* * *

Amelia allowed herself a week to settle in. The next morning, she dug into her trunk once again and pulled out a few thick sheets of stationary printed with the Interstellar Fleet's official letterhead. They would be after her for that report if she didn't send it soon, and there was nothing worse than fending off their aggressively polite inquiries.

She tucked the papers into her jacket and quietly left her room. The house was silent today. Sarah and Jim would be in town speaking with the carpenter, making plans to rebuild their home and business, and the small staff Doppler employed would already be done with their morning work. Amelia took her time walking the empty hallways.

Even when all guests and staff were present, much of the house felt strangely vacant. This was something she had noticed a few days in. She had peeked in doorways and around corners and found many rooms were like the guest room she occupied – filled only with dust and unpacked boxes. Only a few parts of the house felt truly lived-in. She'd been in several large houses and manors before, from wealthy officers' homes to her own family's estates, and none of them looked like this. Most with money found a way to fill even the largest buildings with opulence. The doctor lived like a man of much simpler means residing in a rich person's house.

If Amelia had to guess, she would say the doctor had grown up poor and was used to occupying a much smaller space. He had probably worked hard, had some good luck, and stumbled into success and wealth fairly recently. And now he was living somewhere between old habits and this new lifestyle. _New money_ , her mother would say, nose wrinkled and lip curled, like she was saying a dirty word.

Amelia let herself smile for a moment, thinking of how her mother would react to see her daughter here, accepting the generosity of a self-made man like Doppler and staying in his home. She shook her head and continued down the hall. Amusing yourself by imagining your mother's reaction to a man of your acquaintance was fine once. More than that, and it started to sound like you were making plans.

She entered the library and found Doppler there, alone, as she expected. He was sitting and working at his desk again, which was still completely covered in a disorganized mess of papers. Most were notes from their journey, she had learned recently, and his endless hours of scribbling were an attempt to transform the messy shorthand into something comprehensible to others, perhaps even something publishable.

Amelia leaned over his desk to peer at the sheet he was currently writing on. It didn't look much more legible than the notes to her, but she supposed it was still a work in progress. "How fares your work, Doctor?" she asked.

Doppler jumped, smudging his most recent words slightly, and looked up in surprise. He had a tendency to focus so deeply on his current task that he lost all awareness of anything else. "Oh," he said, once he had processed her question. "It's, uh, going well, I think. I've just been trying to get everything in order and make sure I have all the details I need. Although, I may have to leave a few things out." He sighed, reaching out one hand to rest his fingers on what she recognized as a sketch of the artificial planet's inner mechanisms. "With everything destroyed, there's simply no way to prove some of our discoveries."

Amelia nodded in understanding. She would face a similar dilemma in writing her report. "Much of it was rather unbelievable," she admitted quietly. She cleared her throat. "Could I trouble you for a pen?" she asked. "I have to get my own notes in order and decide how best to explain all this to my superiors." She made a broad gesture to encompass all the papers on Doppler's desk.

He obliged her request quickly, digging through the drawers of his desk to produce pen and ink, and she took a seat at a nearby table to begin her report. It was a complicated process and not only due to her injuries. It was not her dominant arm that was damaged, thankfully, but the sling was still quite obtrusive. It was the report itself that was most troublesome, however. She had to explain, in as vague terms as she felt she could get away with, what they had discovered on Treasure Planet and why they had nothing to show for it. She had to explain how a mutiny conducted by a crew full of pirates was allowed to happen on her watch. And she had to explain how her First Officer, also a respected former member of the Interstellar Fleet, came to die by those pirates' hands. That was the hardest part by far.

She wound up glossing over Silver's escape as briefly as she could. She had her own suspicions there but no way to prove them and no realistic way to track him down. She had a feeling he would be behaving himself from now on, anyway.

When she was done, she read over the letter and sighed. She would have to hope her reputation and the Fleet's trust in her was enough to make them believe all this. At least she wasn't an officer anymore, and they couldn't reward her with a dishonorable discharge, though it could mean the end of her long working relationship with the Fleet. She shook her head and began folding the paper. The rest was out of her hands.

Doppler watched as she tucked the letter into an envelope. "Once Sarah gets back from her errand, I'm sure she'd be happy to show you where the post office is," he offered. "That is, if you don't mind taking a brief tour on the way. She's been wanting to show you around town."

Amelia looked up in surprise. "That's kind of her," she said after a moment, not entirely sure how to react to the offer. Sarah had been perfectly lovely so far, but she hadn't interacted with her all that much.

He nodded, smiling. "Sarah is one of the kindest people I've ever known."

Amelia looked away, feeling uncomfortable and not knowing exactly why. "You seem very close," she said carefully.

"Yes, of course," he said. His eyes widened slightly. "N-not like you might be thinking," he added quickly. He coughed and cleared his throat. "We were neighbors when we were children, went to the same school for years. We're practically siblings, really."

Amelia had to laugh, and she felt herself relaxing as she listened to his stumbling explanation. "Calm down, Doctor. I wasn't trying to accuse you of anything," she said. "It's good that you're close. I'm sure she's glad to have such a reliable friend in you, especially now."

"Ah. Yes. Right." He cleared his throat once more and forced himself back into a casual tone. "Well, we've always tried to look out for one another."

Amelia pushed the envelope to one side and rested her arms on top of the table. "Have you always lived here on Montressor, then?" she asked. It was something she had wondered since their first meeting, as she didn't often see members of her own species so far from home. He certainly didn't talk or act like a native of their home world – though neither did she after so many years of space travel – but with Montressor being such a melting pot of a world, it was hard to gauge exactly where he might be from.

"No, not always. I was actually born on Caro," he said, naming their kind's native planet. "My mother moved us here when I was quite young, though." He pushed his chair back and reached over his shoulder for a framed photo on his bookshelf. "This is from when we first got here," he said, holding it out to her.

She reached out to take the picture. The frame was quite finely made, but the photograph inside was an old-fashioned static one, no projections or holograms. It was quite faded, too, with creases along the middle that suggested it had been folded and tucked into pockets many times before it was finally flattened out and framed. It depicted a young woman standing in the yard of a small house, smiling warmly as she rested her hands on the shoulders of the small child in front of her – clearly Doppler as a boy. Amelia stared at the photo for a moment, then glanced up at Doppler. He must have taken almost entirely after his father, as she could see almost nothing of this composed, elegant-looking feline in his features.

 _Almost_ nothing. He clearly got his eyes from his mother.

She felt a strange surge of emotion well in her throat and she quickly handed the frame back. "You must remember Caro, then," she said, pushing the photo from her mind.

He nodded. "A little," he confirmed. "And I have gone back since then, to visit the Great Museum and give a talk on my work. I'm happy here, though. Montressor is my home."

Amelia smiled. "Well, I can't say you're missing much," she said. "There's a reason I took a job that keeps me far away from home."

The topic of conversation shifted to Amelia's work, and she was happy to let it stay there. They continued their talk until Jim and Sarah returned.

True to Doppler's claim, Sarah was quite eager to walk Amelia through town and take her to the post office. It took much longer than she expected, even knowing there was a going to be a tour involved. It seemed Sarah Hawkins was quite well-liked in her community, as nearly everyone they passed stopped to chat with her, with several inquiring when the Benbow Inn was going to be reopened.

She could see how someone could be inclined to settle down in a place like this.

* * *

Doppler had a projection phone in a corner of his library, probably the only one in town. Amelia had to figure he had it mostly for the novelty of the technology, as they were quite limited in their uses. Their range wasn't very good, they took a long time to connect, and they were prohibitively expensive, meaning there weren't all that many people you could connect to, anyway. There was a reason radio and written communication still reigned supreme. Still, it worked well for her purposes right now. The engineer at the spaceport, which fell within that limited range, had access to one as well, and visuals were often important while he was updating her on the repairs to her ship.

Today's news wasn't very good. He had discovered a significant crack deep in the fuel lines, and the risk for leakage was too great to fix with a simple patch job. The whole system would have to be gutted and replaced. More time and more money, but he insisted the safety hazard was too much to consider anything else.

"Yeah, we're lucky we didn't completely blow up on the way back!" BEN added loudly from behind the engineer.

Amelia shook her head. The robot had volunteered to stay behind and help with the repairs, an offer she had initially found rather horrifying, but Jim had insisted he was now functioning properly, and he had been quite useful during their escape. Letting him help had been a good decision, evidently. The engineer described BEN as incredibly obnoxious but undeniably effective.

"Thank you for the detail, BEN," she said, rubbing at her temple. She sighed and turned her attention back to the engineer. "Do whatever you need to get her running," she said, "and keep me updated if there are any more delightful surprises."

She disconnected, heaved another heavy sigh, and turned around.

Jim, who had been sitting nearby throughout the entire conversation, quickly stuck his nose back in his book. He always seemed to find a reason to be in the room when she was speaking to the engineer, and she had decided to allow it for now. She knew he had an interest in the mechanics of space travel, and he probably didn't have much opportunity to observe the workings of the bigger ships.

She tilted her head to read the title of the book he held. _Etherium Warfare and Battle Tactics_ , one of the textbooks used by the Interstellar Academy. "Studying, Mr. Hawkins?" she asked.

Jim looked up and shrugged, closing the book over his thumb to keep his place. "Doc says I should work on getting my scores up at school if I really want to get into the Academy." He ran his free hand through his hair and let out a sigh. "Might be too late, though," he said with forced casualness, "I've been kind of a screw up lately."

Amelia shook her head. "It's true the Academy prefers to see high marks, but that's far from the only thing they look at," she told him. "The admissions board considers practical knowledge and experience, both of which you seem to have in abundance, and they also consider recommendations from respected former officers, such as myself." He looked up in surprise, and she smiled. "I was serious when I made that offer, Mr. Hawkins. You work on getting your scores up and finishing your schooling. When you're ready to apply, I'll be happy to write that letter. My word does still hold some influence there."

He ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, but she caught a glimpse of his grin. "Uh, thanks," he said. "Really."

She nodded. "Not at all, Mr. Hawkins," she said. "Just be sure not to embarrass me once you're a cadet."

Jim chuckled. "I'll try not to."

Amelia gave him another brief smile and turned to leave. She'd only gone a few steps before Jim spoke up again, stopping her.

"Hey, Captain?" he called.

She turned to face him. "Yes?"

He hesitated for a moment, drumming his fingers on the cover of his book. "You were in the Interstellar Fleet for a long time, right?" he asked.

"Not as long as some," she said, "but I served my fair amount of time."

"What made you quit?"

The corner of her mouth curved upward in amusement. "Retire is the proper term," she corrected. "And I do still occasionally do contract work for them, such as our recent adventure. But to answer your question, I suppose I just found myself chafing under too many rules and regulations."

Jim frowned thoughtfully. "Why'd you join in the first place, then?" he asked.

Amelia walked back across the room toward him and took a seat. "Because I had always wanted to be a spacer," she said, "ever since I was a little girl." She leaned back with a sigh. "My father was a captain, too," she added after a moment. "Local fleet, not Interstellar. And the work he did seemed like the most marvelous adventure to me. I wanted to be a part of that."

Jim's frown deepened, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Amelia could tell she had brushed against a sensitive topic. "Of course," she added quickly, "I'd be lying if I said it wasn't also to get away from home and perhaps drive my mother mad in the process."

He choked out a surprised laugh.

She smirked and added, "I'm not sure it worked, though. She was probably glad to be rid of me for a while – I was a beastly child back then."

"You?" he asked in disbelief.

"Few of us make it through our teenage years gracefully," she said drily. "It's an unfortunate fact of nature." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Don't misunderstand me, Mr. Hawkins," she said. "The Interstellar Fleet is no longer the right place for me, but I don't regret my service for a moment. And I would not recommend it to you if I didn't believe you would benefit. You'll do well there. I truly believe that." She stood and let out a sigh. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to find out just how much a new fuel system for the _Legacy_ is going to cost and figure how much of it is going to come out of my own pocket."

Jim chuckled and sat up straighter. "Good luck, Cap," he said, "and thanks."

She stopped at the door and nodded. "Study hard, Mr. Hawkins."

* * *

The response from the Fleet came on the same day her arm was declared fully healed. There were two letters stuffed into the official envelope. One was a brief response to her report and included the trial dates for her apprehended pirates – she would be required to attend as a witness, another bother. The other was a formal announcement of Mr. Arrow's memorial service.

That made sense. He had no close relatives left, but he did have a long, honorable history of service with the Fleet. It was natural they would want to pay respects to a fallen spacer.

Amelia excused herself to her room and locked the door behind her.

A few deep breaths steadied her, and she sat down on the edge of her bed to begin planning. She would have to go, of course. It was her obligation as a captain and a friend, no matter how much she disliked big, public funerals and memorials. She was fit to travel, now, even if her ship was not. She would just have to leave earlier to get there on time.

A tentative knock on her door interrupted Amelia's thoughts, and she got up to answer it. There stood Doppler, bearing a tea tray and a far too understanding expression. "I, um, brought tea," he said unnecessarily.

Amelia considered him for a long moment, thinking back to the _Legacy_ and the black hole and Doppler keeping her company while she drowned her sorrows in a much stronger drink. She took a step back and gestured for him to enter.

Doppler set the tray down atop the chest of drawers and busied himself with pouring, and Amelia sat back down and watched him. He'd had to move a few of her personal belongings aside to make room for the tray, and with a glance around the room, she realized she'd quite broken her own rule about settling in. Doppler had moved much of the jumble out of the room early on, and she'd instead filled the empty space with her own things.

It was definitely time to move on from here.

Doppler offered her a cup of tea and, after a moment of hesitation, sat down beside her. He tapped his fingers against the side of his own cup and waited.

Amelia let the silence linger for a while before finally breaking it with a deep sigh. "I just really hate this sort of thing," she said dully. "I know it's meant well, honoring a fallen comrade, but it's hard enough to lose a crewmember without having to mourn them twice." She sipped at her tea and stared at the wall straight ahead of her. "I'll still go, of course," she added. "Mr. Arrow was a great man. He deserves to be honored more than once."

Doppler shifted his weight beside her. "I could…" he began quietly and abruptly let himself trail off. "I mean, if you wanted someone to…" He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Would you care to have some company when you attend the service?" he offered in a rush.

She turned to stare at him, her ears pricking forward in surprise. Her immediate instinct, the stubborn, independent instinct she'd had since childhood, told her to refuse. She would face this alone like she did everything else. But she stopped and thought, remembering how quiet and understanding Doppler had been the night of Mr. Arrow's death. How, aside from the splitting, alcohol-induced headache later on, she had felt so much better after talking with him.

"You know, I think I would like that," she told him, smiling. "Thank you for the offer, Doctor."

He cleared his throat, looking pleased. "Of course," he said.

A comfortable silence fell and remained as they drank their tea. Amelia set her empty cup aside and shifted so she was half facing Doppler. "Did I ever tell you when I met Mr. Arrow?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No, I just know you were very close."

Her smile became briefly wicked. "Yes, but not like you might be thinking," she said, and was rewarded by the embarrassed blush that crossed Doppler's muzzle. She chuckled to herself and went on. "We were at the Academy together, and we were both stubborn and competitive and had something to prove. Live up to old family names, show the folks back home they were wrong, that sort of thing," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. Such silly things they cared about back then. "We never even met until the second year, but we knew each other by reputation. The first time we really saw each other was in a class on hand-to-hand fighting. The instructor chose us to spar. I was a scrap of a girl then, and Mr. Arrow already resembled a small mountain, so I don't blame him for being overconfident. I wasn't too sure of myself, either. But he charged me, I managed to get low and knock him off balance, and he had enough momentum going to send him sailing right out of the ring and into our instructor. Knocked him out cold."

Doppler snorted into his teacup, and Amelia grinned. "Honestly, it was almost all luck on my part," she continued, "though I would have claimed pure skill back then. I was half afraid he was going to round up some cronies and pummel me behind the dormitories for the insult, but Arrow…" She shook her head and looked down, smiling to herself. "Arrow laughed. He laughed, and got to his feet, and shook my hand."

Amelia stood and poured herself another cup of tea. "Of course, we both had to clean the mess hall for two weeks for what happened to the instructor, but we were friends from that point on." She leaned against the chest of drawers and sipped her tea. "We never served together during out time with the Fleet, but we stayed in touch, and we found each other again once we'd both retired. Mr. Arrow followed me through every last ridiculous, foolhardy mission I took on." She sighed. "At least his last journey was a good one. He'd have hated going out on something like a simple cargo run."

Doppler watched as she silently stared down into her tea. When it became clear she wasn't going to say anything else, he jumped up and walked over to refill his own cup. "So, uh, how did you two wind up with the _Legacy_?" he asked. "It used to be a Fleet vessel, right?"

Amelia looked up and smiled. "That's a good story, too," she said, "but it's a little long."

"I have all day," he replied, settling in beside her.

* * *

The first funeral Amelia could remember was her father's. It was foggy and cold and miserable, and it was crowded with important people who had barely known the man pretending to be wracked with grief. And her mother hadn't cried, had focused on looking strong and collected in front of all these strangers, so Amelia felt like she couldn't cry either.

Mr. Arrow's memorial was much the same. The weather was nicer, but it was just as formal and controlled and full of important people. Amelia didn't cry at this one, either.

The more affecting service came afterward, when she dragged poor Doppler along to a spacer dive bar nearby. There she shared drinks and stories with old friends in old, ill-fitting uniforms – people who had actually known Mr. Arrow and served with him, people who understood what had truly been lost.

They left the bar early enough to catch the last transport ship to Montressor Spaceport, and Amelia only stumbled once on her way up the gangplank. She opted to stay above deck during the launch, enjoying the familiarity of it all – the organized scurry of the crew, the switch to artificial gravity, the stomach-dropping lurch forward as the thrusters engaged. She'd been landlocked for too long.

Doppler joined her along the rail once they were cruising smoothly, and he handed her the small bag she had taken for this trip. She reached inside and drew out Mr. Arrow's tricorn hat. "Goodbye, old friend," she said quietly, running her fingers along the brim. "It was good sailing with you all these years." She stretched out her arms and opened her hands, letting the hat drift slowly out into the Etherium.

She watched in silence as it faded into the blackness. Doppler placed a tentative hand on her back, and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

She hadn't really been fair with the man, keeping him at arm's length since they'd returned from their perilous journey. They had grown quite close very quickly, and she had been trying to write it off as the result of adrenaline and the fact that she had been half-delirious for much of it at the end. But she knew that was not true. She had been oddly charmed by Doppler's enthusiasm from the start, had admired his ability to adapt and keep a level head well before the real danger had set in. These past several weeks had only strengthened her initial impressions.

She supposed she hadn't really been fair to herself, either.

Slowly, very slowly, she let herself lean into the touch.

* * *

They had time before the shuttle to Montressor left, so they took a walk along the docks of the spaceport to check on the _Legacy_.

"She actually looks like something that could fly again," Amelia commented. There were still a few obvious signs of the repair being done, but it did truly look almost complete.

Doppler looked at her sidelong. "What will you do once she's up and running?" he asked.

Amelia crossed her arms and sighed. "I'm not exactly sure," she admitted. "My contract with the Fleet is up for renewal soon, but I don't think either of us is all that keen to continue on after this last job. And, frankly, I could do with a break from the more harrowing adventures, at least for a time. Maybe I'll do some cargo runs or ferry tourists for a while." She shook her head. It would be a nightmare finding a first officer to replace Mr. Arrow. Better to stick to the simple things until she had someone she could trust. "Maybe I'll finally take the Academy up on that teaching job they're always badgering me about," she added. "Bossing around the cadets could be fun, especially if our Mr. Hawkins makes it in."

Doppler laughed at that and turned back to look at the ship. "Well, it sounds like you have a lot of options," he said, with a hint of melancholy to his voice. "I'm sure whatever you do will turn out well."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "That sounds an awfully lot like a last goodbye to me. Why so final, Doctor?"

"Well, uh," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, "I'm sure you'll be very busy. I mean, someone like you wouldn't have a lot of time to…" He trailed off helplessly.

Amelia smirked and nudged him with her shoulder. "Nonsense, Doctor," she said. "You'll have to try harder than that to be rid of me. At the very least, I'll have to visit Montressor again once the Benbow Inn reopens to see what all the fuss is about."

His smile was warm and genuine. "Good."

* * *

Amelia smiled as their destination came into view and the lookout bellowed their approach. Montressor Spaceport was always a welcome sight. Even before she'd grown attached to the planet it orbited, it was familiar hub of life and activity and the start and end point of many of her journeys. It had been several long months since she'd last laid eyes on it, too long by far.

She turned away from the railing with a sigh. It was a silly thing for a spacer to grow homesick. "Prepare us to dock, Mr. Gilchrist," she ordered sharply.

"Aye, Captain," the man she addressed replied from his place on her left. He took two steps forward and inhaled deeply. "All hands prepare for docking procedures!" he shouted to the crew below, sibilant syllables hissing over his forked tongue. He didn't have Mr. Arrow's deep, rumbling voice, but his commands carried all the same. The crew sprang to life in an instant.

"And make it gentle, this time," Amelia added. "This rusted heap can't take another landing like our last one."

He rolled his eyes and said nothing as he walked down the stairs from the quarterdeck to better monitor the crew's actions. The captain fooled absolutely nobody with how harshly she spoke of her ship.

Amelia shook her head. Mr. Gilchrist was entirely too serious and sullen, always grumbling complaints under his breath as he worked. Still, he was certainly the best first officer she'd engaged so far. He could scarcely be expected to fill the shoes of his predecessor, but he was hard-working and reliable, and she could trust his judgement – the most important quality in a first officer.

She turned her attention back to the ship's steady approach. Montressor, visible just beyond the gleaming surface of the spaceport, was not a beautiful planet. It showed its mining roots even from this distance, a dreary pallet of brown and grey broken up only by its oceans. But that was not what drew her back to this place.

The wedding had only been a few weeks gone before she had to set sail again. Duty had called, an important client with important cargo that needed to be moved quickly and safely, and he trusted no other captain with his wares. The blessing and curse of building such a sterling reputation, she had to keep working to uphold it. It was good money, too. Her crew enjoyed their shore leave, but they enjoyed getting paid even more.

At least the time away had given her the chance to consider another matter – a letter from her mother that had arrived the day before she had shipped out and which she had spent countless hours reading and rereading in her stateroom each night.

Amelia had sent her a wedding announcement out of some deeply-embedded sense of filial obligation. Much to her surprise, she had actually gotten a reply. The letter had consisted of carefully polite congratulations and inquiries as to her health and recent activities, and it had ended with an invitation for Amelia to bring her new husband by for supper some time. No matter how she read the brief response, she could not detect any of her mother's usual implied criticisms.

She had been wary, at first. This was the first real contact between her and her mother in nearly a decade, and they had parted quite badly before that. Could she really trust such a gesture as a sign of goodwill? But she knew she was judging prematurely. After all, it was not outside the realm of possibility that her mother had actually relaxed and eased up some after all these years. Amelia certainly had. Surely they owed each other a chance at reconciliation.

Still, she had her doubts, and Caro was not a short trip by any means. She still hadn't decided what to do about it.

The ship approached its berth, and the crew began to toss mooring lines to the dockworkers. Amelia scanned the bustling crowd beyond the pier and grinned. There was Delbert, the lovely man, waiting to meet her. Beside him stood Jim Hawkins, looking surprisingly neat and well-groomed. The Interstellar Academy was accepting applications soon; he would be preparing for exams and interviews. Sarah was standing beside her son, looking slightly harried, but that was to be expected with construction on the Benbow Inn now in full swing.

Amelia had the _Legacy_ and her crew and this wonderful little family here on Montressor. A peaceable reunion with her mother would be nice, but she had all she needed here.


End file.
